Drink
by princeLen
Summary: Drabble It was rare for Len seek refuge in bottles, but tonight seemed to be one that contradicted all his unspoken rules and morals, as found himself sucking down on a small bottle of something that made his throat burn and set his stomach aflame. Because sometimes the weight of the world hurts. And sometimes, the weight of your own body is just too heavy to carry.


It was rare for a the boy to reach so far back into the dusty cabinets and seek out refuge in the bottles left behind, some open some not, some half drank and others opened and gathering cobwebs, left to stale. However, tonight seemed to be one that contradicted all his unspoken rules and morals, and Len found himself seemingly sucking down indefinitely on what was just a small bottle of something that made his throat burn and set his stomach aflame. The label was tattered and he couldn t be bothered to think about the consequences if it wasn t what it smelled to be.  
It took him a long time or at least it felt like a long time, he couldn t really tell anything as the affects took hold of him and were strong enough to be so disorienting already to finish the clear liquid off, hiccuping as he relished the strong fuzz to come and play tricks on his mind.  
The boy couldn t tell if he d been crying before drinking or after, but he wasn t crying any more and it didn t matter to him that his cheeks were flushed and tattered with tear stains. He wiped off his face and moved his lips around to get the stiffness out of his features. Consequently, he stood from his spot on the floor by the cabinets and stumbled around, swearing he was about to hit the tiles in the kitchenette with his nose and swerved to shove his elbow into the counter top. That would definitely leave a bruise, big swollen and throbbing, but he didn t feel it. He didn t feel much, and was thankful for the numbness that consumed him.  
Stumbling through the apartment and quickly grabbing onto his phone, he pocketed the device finally after missing his jeans six or seven times, growing incredibly irritated at his poor coordination. He knew he was bad with his hands, but he wasn t a baby, he had enough knowledge to know how to work his digits right. Although he couldn t do so very well quickly, right now, and if he wanted to do something simple he had to take his time and go very slow.  
Len was quickly exiting his room with gusto and he slushed his way down the stairs to the parking-lot, tripping every so often. He pulled his act together enough, humming a song faintly that held no real melody to it; probably something comprised of many other things he d heard in the spans of his life activity time. It was loud in his head, a jumbled and raspy rhapsody quite like everything else that surrounded around him. The cars blaring by as he made his way onto the side walks, the few homeless pedestrians who strode around, buzzing and talking about things like drugs and jobs and cardboard boxes and cats and he could ve sworn he passed someone who looked so familiar, like he was looking in a mirror, but he would have to care about it another day because right now he surely didn t. And tomorrow he wouldn t, he wouldn t remember any of this in the morning, nothing of what he did.  
Much unlike everything going by so fast around him, the journey he was set on autopilot to seemed to pass by so slow. But he got there soon enough and in reality it was only ten minutes, much less than the ten hours it felt. Appearing on a moments notice over at the house of his new friend seemed a bit too much, even if he had called had he? No he hadn t, that s right. Maybe he should call now. Maybe not, he was already there, but what harm could it do? If she didn t answer, she was sleeping, and he would go back home.  
Of course she picked up on the third ring, voice a little strained, had he waken her? It was only eleven, as he d paused mid greet and looked at the time, and then sat down on the path to her house and noticed a light in a room flicker on. It was cold and a little damp from the earlier rainshower, but it was warm out and he was comfortable. No, he didn t have to go inside. But he didn t quite want to be alone. He laid himself down on his side and lazily began a conversation with her, clicking his tongue and hiccuping and arguing slightly when she d asked if he was drunk. He rolled his eyes and spilled everything out that he could and claimed he could handle his liqueur like a champ and was speaking before he could even think of what to say and it made her laugh sadistically, the way he stumbled and slurred his words together and sounded like an idiot, because he really was. He was one of the biggest idiots he d ever met.

It was probably an hour or so before he d passed out on her lawn, and she didn t realise he was there until the next morning. She dumped water on his head and he jumped up, sleep stuck to his eyes and a pounding in his head and he was so incredibly nauseous and he threw up right outside the gate entrance and she made him clean it up quickly. He could tell she was irritated, although amused at his antics from the previous night which she quickly informed him of, and nevertheless he was lent an orange (which he didn t really eat) and a bottle of water before setting off back home, sweaty, sticky and gross smelling.  
Knowing he d done all that made him feel stupid.  
Knowing she d put up with all that, however, made him feel slightly better. 


End file.
